Emilia

Tuesday, May 10th, 2022 (49 days after the Shutdown)

“Go… and don’t look back,” Katherine whispered.

She could hear Jean Bain meters away, his gun getting ready in his hands to seal their fates.

Stepping away, the last she saw of Katherine was her face cloaked in shadows, making peace with the encroaching specter that awaited her.

Crashing through the thicket that blocked the road, her vision tunneled and she blindly ran, her heart hammering at her ribs. Guilt soured in her throat, the voices of the ones she abandoned ringing in her ears.

BANG!

Time seemed to slow as her body instinctively froze.

“... don’t look back.”

I’m so sorry. Closing her eyes she sent a silent prayer and ran, her muscles screaming in fatigue until she finally made it to the cottage. Running around the side, the garage was how they’d left it with the raft ready for use in the center.

“EMILIA! Come out, come out!” a crass voice roared.

Her eyes widened noticing the entrance of the garage was open. Despite her need to stay deathly quiet, the old hinges betrayed her desire for discreteness, screeching as she pulled the doors shut. Pressing herself into the corner of the room, Jean Bain’s voice was still audible.

“All of this unnecessary bloodshed could’ve been avoided if you just told me what I wanted to know. But it doesn’t matter anymore. It was your demon of a father,” he explained, his voice becoming clearer. “You must’ve set the foul creature free, eh? I completely forgot about him for a second there. Should’ve finished it with a bullet the day he killed Atticus… like this!”

A vase shattered somewhere in the house.

“If you were waiting for him to come and rescue you, I reckon you’re gonna be disappointed. This much noise and he doesn’t come running?”

Emilia flinched as a door splintered under his heel.

“Given how he never ran to anyone when we beat the living fuck out of him, I guess I gave him more credit than I should’ve. It won’t even run to protect its daughter.”

Beat up?

Another door broke down, closer this time.

“Make this easier for me, Emilia. You won’t live to see the sunset, we both know that. You run, you die. You hide, you die. I’ll let you pray to whatever god you see fit… but for the devil's spawn it won’t do any good.”

His footsteps stopped in front of the garage door.

“Let’s end this charade.”

Pulling the garage doors open, any echoes of defiance she mustered faded upon looking at his massive frame. His sheer size blotted out the light, the gun he held dwarfed by his massive hand.

“Hello,” he dryly said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He looked down at the raft at his feet. “Is this what you were planning on escaping with? I think I might’ve done you a favor by lightening the number of passengers.”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

His face slightly reddened to match his hair. “Whatcha say?”

“We haven’t done anything to deserve being killed. You didn’t have to shoot Mr. Daniels, or Jefferson, or Katherine. You could’ve just forced us off the island if it was a food problem.”

Surprised by the sudden surge of confidence she displayed, Jean’s eyes narrowed.

“... because I felt like it.”

“Because… you felt like it?” she repeated in a whisper. “You killed the only real family I had… because what, it made you happy?”

“It was… intoxicating. Each bullet was a song. I felt more alive hunting you guys than the dinky little rabbits in the forest,” he effused, the corners of his mouth curling up and his eyes swimming with his happy memories of the ones he killed.

“Rabbits…”

Hiding her trembling hands behind her, she backed away from him until she felt the garage shelf digging into her shoulders.

“What do you think is gonna happen when everything goes back to normal and people realize an entire crew is missing? If there are only the two of you, people will be skeptical,” she warned, searching around her for a weapon.

“Then the solution is obvious, innit?” he said, stepping forward. “I just gotta make you disappear before you go squawk to anyone.”

Praying that his ego had blinded him, she cautiously reached behind her and spun. Clutching the oar that was on the shelf like her life depended on it, she listened to the satisfying crunch as it smacked Jean square in the head. That’s what hitting a baseball must feel like. I got it in the end, Jeff.

Dropping to a knee, he stared in disbelief as blood started to flow from under his hand. “You… bitch.”

Withering under his gaze like a frightened child, she ran past him, her fear increasing when she heard him stand up and chase after her.

She couldn’t run to the forest. Marcus could be there. The water still was poisoned, the dark brown band growing darker the more marine life it took. That only left one place.

The cave had long since collapsed from her father’s first rampage, but if she could reach it, she could squeeze into one of the cracks and hide until she found some other solution.

The pebble beach didn’t help her case. Sliding under her feet when she stepped on them, she staggered onwards.

“I’LL FUCKING GUT YOU!”

Already beyond exhausted she stopped for a second and the next she found her body sprawled amongst the rocks with Jean Bain standing over her. Wha— A migraine sprung up from the side of her head.

“Y-You thought… you bitch,” he hissed, his hands squeezing around her neck.

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Tightening his grip, she could smell the piss under his nails. Eyes watering as he put his entire weight behind his hands, she clawed at his hands taking flesh with her but he ended it by hammering her face. Her nose exploded in a stream of blood. She tried to scream, but her voice was trapped in her throat.

“I-I was going to send you off” — her body stilled as he slapped the remaining air out of her — “peacefully. You don’t d-deserve that.”

Lowering his hand to her chest, his breathing became erratic. “How about some fun before you go? Huh? Nothing to say?”

Pressing his elbow into her throat, he brought his face closer to hers. “I take that as a ye—”

Thoughts in her mind started to dissolve as the darkness started to set in. With her hands falling limp to her side, the last thing she saw was a streak of gold flying towards them. Papa…

***

She woke up, rolling onto her side and greedily sucking in the air. Remembering her final moments conscious, her hands reached for her neck and gasped, brushing against the deep gouges Jean Bain had made in her neck. T-That sack of lard t-tried to—

Gagging at the thought of him trying to touch her, in her panic, breathing became a foreign motion. She felt like she was breathing through a straw, her lungs cramping. Coughing and trembling, she heard someone behind her.

“Toma un respiro, flor pequeña.”

Flinching at the mention of her nickname, her eyes welled up with tears.

“Papa—”

An overwhelming yearning to throw herself into her father's arms sprung up within her like it did when she was younger. The world wasn’t that charitable.

Staring out to sea as he sat nearby, her father's state was more decrepit than hers. His flannel overshirt that he wore everywhere was torn to shreds until it was a veritable set of rags. And his skin… it bore a disquieting resemblance to the zombies depicted in movies – a patchwork of overgrown new flesh intermingled with deep gouges where bullets had found their mark. From the last time she saw him, the entirety of his body had taken on a darker shade of red.

Teetering on the brink of life and death, his eyes still found hers.

“I don’t think I can survive a hug,” he joked, smiling through his pain.

Crawling to sit beside him, she hugged her knees and watched the tide start to roll in.

“So… is it you in there or am I talking to something else?”

“... It's me. I promise.”

“Okay,” she mumbled, lightly resting her head on his shoulder.

“... Flor pequeña, as nice as this is, you don’t have time. Marcus is still out there.”

“We don't have time,” she corrected, fiercely staring at her father.

Ripping the necklace off, he dangled it in front of her. His posture immediately deteriorated.

“This is a weapon with an Ego, take it — E-Emilia don’t interrupt — take it and l-learn to use it. It’s not a w-weapon meant for… mortals.”

His hand slumped to the ground, no longer able to sustain the effort.

“If y-you’re scared that you’re going to go crazy… I… don’t be. At the time… I wasn’t prepared. I was led on by a vision a-and… it fed off my fear.”

The cross on the necklace glinted at her, softly pulsing like a beacon. Its golden glow seemed to call to her, but she'd seen enough of it for a lifetime.

The “Ego” her father spoke – a demon’s spirit – had possessed and broken him. The meteor that it originated from had poisoned the water around the island, cutting off their food source and leading to the crew members turning on each other. If only they never found that crater, everyone she cared about would still be alive.

“Y-You’re not… very good at hiding y-your disgust. Only a fool a-abandons an advantage, Emilia. Tame it and make it yours.”

BOOM!

An explosion shook the entire island, sending tremors rippling through the ground. Steadying herself, she stared at the fireball shooting into the sky from the direction of the ship.

“M-Marcus… he ran into my trap…” her father murmured thoughtfully. Turning to her, he snatched the necklace and forced her hand open. “Wear this in front of me and then grab that raft and go. If he survived, he’s going to come this way first.”

“B-But—”

“No buts. Vamos.”

Hastily throwing the necklace on, she expected to shy away from the cold but she was surprised at the warmth it emitted. Toying with the pendant, she glanced down at her father. His complexion worsened yet he appeared relieved she’d taken it.

“I-I… “

She couldn’t find the words she wanted to say. Sorry? I love you? If this was to be her last time seeing the most central figure in her life… what could she possibly say to sum up 17 years?

“I’ll remember you.”

Her words seemed to ignite something inside him. Straightening his back he looked her dead in the eye.

“No, you must forget about me. If you keep remembering us, you will blame yourself and self-destruct. Forget about me, Katherine, Jefferson, Mr. Daniels and the rest of your friends. Erase everything you remember about this. These past 17 years of yours were just a long dream. Not always the most pleasant, sure, but that's all you should think of it as.”

Smiling with a hint of sorrow, he turned to watch the waves breaking on the beachhead.

“And now, it's time to wake up. I don't know what you're going to find when you reach the mainland, but never for a moment think that you're safe.

Kissing him on the forehead, she whispered, “Thank you… for everything, Papa.”

“Always.”

Knowing if she stayed for a second longer she would never leave, she raced back to the cottage.

Dragging the raft down to the furthest side of the harbor like they’d been planning, the fastenings ripped off from the chafing along the way, leaving only a paddleboard intact. Carefully launching it into the band of brown water, the necklace came to life, tugging her in the direction of the beach far behind her.

“JUAN, YOU FUCKER!”

The chain started to cut into her flesh as it hummed in displeasure.

Still staring at the ocean, her father sat completely nonchalant about the bald man rushing towards him. With Marcus’ gun leveled to the back of her father’s head, Emilia squeezed her eyes shut, trying to whisk herself away to a realm untouched by death. The necklace started to fight against her, pulling her closer to the swell of poison water surrounding her.

A gunshot silenced it.

Falling limp to her chest the necklace grew cold. Something inside her started to unravel knowing the last pillar of her life had finally crumbled.

Marcus…

Opening her eyes, her body hardened as the two of them made eye-contact. From across the harbor she could see his teeth glinting yellow, his face warping into a scowl as he began running towards her.

Pushing off the coast using her oar, bullets chased after her spraying her with fountains of acidic water yet she paddled onwards. The liquid around seemed to coil and writhe like a venomous serpent, its fumes growing stronger as she neared the edge of the barrier. Only 10 yards left.

Frantically paddling forward she strained against the resistance of the water. The sound of her labored breath became her metronome, the fear and anger in her body propelling her forward to her escape.

Where the salt water met the poison, a doldrum had sprung up marking the end of the barrier.

“Emilia!” Marcus hollered behind her on the edge of the harbor. “Don’t think you’ll ever be safe even if you tell anyone what happened here! Think for a second that you’ll survive and you’re sorely mistaken!”

Looking at the man who’d orchestrated the massacre, her fear turned to anger at the lack of guilt he showed. The only satisfaction she got looking at him was that her father’s last trap seemed to leave blistered patches on his skin and the remains of his clothes were charred from the fire. With those wounds, Marcus wouldn’t be chasing her for a while. Even in death, he watches over me…

The smoke from the burning ship rose higher and higher, staining the sky brown. She could hear small explosions as the fire spread without contest, burning any trace of murders onboard.

The island which the crew had prayed would be their refuge became their graves. First, it was the Banshees then it was the humans, the crew she’d grown up with. If the people she’d known her whole life were capable of senseless violence, what would await her on the mainland?

Watching it for a second longer, she turned, paddling away from the sunset.